


Finding Passion

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universes, First Times, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:16:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An introduction to the A/U world of Jim, the taxi driver and Blair, the Doctor of Anthropology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Passion

**Author's Note:**

> Profound thanks to Carla for a quick and painless beta. Don't know what I'd do without her. 
> 
> Warnings: Profanity. 

## Finding Passion

by Bette Bourgeois

Author's disclaimer: Not intended to infringe on the rights of any copyright holders for The Sentinel. Not to be redistributed without the permission of the author.

* * *

Jim Ellison pulled the taxi up to the tall ornate iron gates and stopped. "1313 Harmony Lane," Jim read off the pillar as he turned in his seat to speak to the lady in the back, but she forestalled any further comment by pulling a slim black box out of her purse and aiming it at the gates. 

"Pull up to the main door, please," she smiled at him stiffly. The order was polite, but definitely autocratic. The detachment was strangely at odds with the way she'd been studying his profile ever since he'd picked her up outside that swank downtown restaurant. 

He watched the gates slide open and shrugged. Didn't make any difference to him where he let her out. The meter was still running until she got out of the taxi. He backed up a bit and then turning in between the still-retracting gates, drove up the long driveway that stretched in from the road and led to the enormous Georgian-style mansion surrounded by tall evergreens and well manicured hedges and lawns. He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw his passenger turn and point the black box out the rear window. He could see the gates closing behind them as he followed the drive around the house and stopped at the main door around the side. In the back of his mind he wondered about those closing gates but then just shrugged. Guess she was just paranoid about people getting in while they were open. He hoped he wouldn't have to stop and open them manually on his way out and then stop and close them again. What a pain in the ass. 

"The fare comes to 22.50, ma'am," Jim turned to face his passenger again with a polite smile. 

"I'd like some help carrying in my parcels, if you don't mind, driver." The well-manicured fingers flicked in the direction of the mountain of packages on the seat beside her and one well-tended eyebrow rose in a pseudo-aristocratic arch. 

Jim turned away from the measured gaze in the hard gray eyes and got out of the vehicle with a hastily-stifled sigh. He hated this type of customer. He just knew she was going to be a lousy tipper too. He came around and politely helped her out of the taxi. She swept off towards the massive front door without a backward glance, leaving him to scramble around to the other side and retrieve all her packages from the back seat. With bags in each hand and parcels balanced carefully in his arms, he followed. 

The door was still open when he reached it, so he stepped into the wide front hall of the mansion and looked around. "In here," the commanding female voice called from the room to his right. Jim turned and stepped across the threshold into a luxuriously decorated lounge. "Just put them down here," his customer gestured carelessly to the sofa she was standing beside. Her coat was already draped across its back and he watched her step out of her high heeled shoes even as he unloaded the parcels onto the soft leather seat. When he straightened she had moved away to a drinks cabinet beside the fireplace and was pouring scotch into two crystal tumblers. "Drink?" she drawled, sliding another of those cool assessing looks over her shoulder at him. 

"Not while I'm driving, ma'am," Jim drawled, not completely able to hide the sarcasm. 

"Surely you can take a little break," she strolled towards him carrying the two drinks. As she came to a stop just at the edge of his personal space, she looked up steadily into his wary blue gaze. "I can make it worth your while," she offered, an unspoken question hanging off the end of the remark. 

"Like I said, the fare is $22.50," Jim reiterated carefully, seeing that tip evaporate as fast as the sultry smile on the pouty red mouth died. "The dispatcher is probably screaming over the radio already for taking too long. I need to get on my way, if it's all the same to you, ma'am." 

Without another word, she turned and dropped both glasses onto the coffee table between the sofa and the fireplace. Lifting her coat she unearthed an expensive leather purse and drew out a fifty dollar note which she held out to Jim. He took the bill, but when he noticed how big it was he reached for his wallet to make change. 

"Keep the change, driver," the woman demanded and then swept out of the room, managing to swan it like minor royalty despite her stockinged feet. Jim followed as she led him back to the front door, still standing open. She flicked one of a series of switches on the panelled wall and Jim could see the big black gates at the end of the drive sweep open. "Good day." She didn't look at him as she took a firm grip on the door handle. 

"Thank you, ma'am," Jim murmured as he passed her on his way out. He heard the door close with an emphatic thud behind him and grinned as he returned to his taxi. He pocketed the fifty and then headed down the driveway. As he pulled the taxi out onto the quiet residential street he watched the gates slide shut behind him. 

It wasn't the first time he'd been propositioned by a customer and it probably wouldn't be the last. His tall, slim and muscular physique and his All American good looks seemed to attract that kind of attention from females and males alike. He even took a few of them up on it if the time was right and the attraction was intense. It wasn't a question of money, though he never refused what he was offered. No need to cut your nose off to spite your face, he felt, and the extra cash was nothing to sneeze at, but at least he didn't need it. It was always his choice, he didn't need to let anyone pressure him into anything and that made it easier to say no or yes, whichever he desired. 

Between driving taxi and his disability pension, he managed pretty well. He even had enough to add regularly to a retirement fund every year. He was lucky that he'd bought his loft apartment outright back when he was making the big bucks as Cascade's top Major Crime detective. He sure couldn't have afforded to buy any real estate these days. But with the loft and his modest income, he was doing all right. Life was a lot more predictable these days and that was the way he liked it. 

Anything was better than those days of misery when his out of control senses had driven him from his job at the Cascade Police Department two years ago. He was so thankful when the weird shit that had been happening with his senses finally started to subside. He only had the occasional problem these days. It kept him off the road for days, somethimes weeks at a time, but those episodes were getting fewer and farther apart. He knew he'd been damn lucky to get off so lightly with the fuck-ups he'd made at the department in those last weeks. He'd been damn lucky that his Captain and best friend had been able to talk the Department into giving him a disability pension when he'd had to leave or risk being fired. Hell, the way he'd been going, he'd been damn lucky not to end up in a psychiatric ward. 

A cop who had hallucinations without explanation? A cop who couldn't handle the painfully loud noise of firing off his own gun? That was a cop who couldn't do his job. A useless cop as far as he was concerned. And when he'd accidentally gotten another cop injured he'd quit before they could fire him. His captain had insisted that it wasn't his fault and that there had been no question of them firing him, that he hadn't needed to leave. But Jim didn't believe him. He blamed himself and he knew he had to get out before he got himself or somebody else killed. It had been time to quit when the only future seemed to be behind a desk. That would have killed him. Not as quickly as a bullet, but more miserably, stuck indoors all day under mountains of paperwork. Not Jim Ellison. Not in this lifetime. 

"Ellison to dispatch, leaving Cascade Heights now," Jim radioed in to the dispatcher as he headed the big Chevy sedan down the long winding road from the exclusive neighbourhood in the hills at the north end of the city. The fares were always good if you had to come this far out to the city limits, but Jim had never had anyone give him fifty bucks for a twenty dollar fare before. Maybe despite her ice queen act the lady wanted him to remember her. He'd remember her all right, remember to stay away from her. He'd met a lot of women with money to burn in the past two years as a taxi cab driver. And he knew that the ones who acted like their money somehow made them superior to everybody else were the ones to be avoided at all costs. He could do polite for the sake of a good fare and a healthy tip, but that's all those dames would ever get outta him. Thank you, ma'am, but no thank you. 

"Ellison, this is dispatch. Swing by Rainier and pick up a . . ." There was a pause as the dispatcher checked his details. "A Dr. Blair Sandburg. He's supposed to be in the Anthropology Building. What do they call it?" 

"Hargrove Hall," Jim supplied. "Roger that, dispatch. What time did he want to be picked up?" 

"ASAP, sonny. So step on it." 

"Keep your shirt on, Danny. I'm on my way. Ellison out." 

Danny Pascoe was an ex-Army buddy of Jim's who ran his own taxi business in the city on just his Army pension and his medical disability benefits. It wasn't a big outfit and he didn't make a lot of money running it. He had a fleet of six vehicles staffed by six experienced drivers, all ex-servicemen. Despite his disability, Danny ran the business and worked dispatch himself out of his wheelchair accessible office. His brother-in-law, Benny, handled the maintenance and mechanical problems of the small fleet for him. They had a good reputation in the city and their bread and butter was repeat business, especially from the university. 

"Kid gloves, Ellison! Kid gloves!" Danny's gravelly voice hastened to remind him of the fact. 

"Yeah, yeah," Jim grumbled but didn't bother to answer his boss. 

"Ellison!" Danny's growl came over the radio speaker again. 

"Roger that, dispatch," Ellison growled right back. "He'll get the fuckin' kid glove treatment. Okay?" he spat. "Ellison out!" and he hung up the receiver determined to ignore any more smart comments that came out of it. 

Fifteen minutes later Jim pulled up outside Hargrove Hall and stopped at the curb with the engine running. Nobody came dashing up to get in, so after a couple of minutes he put it in park and cut the engine. Five minutes later he called dispatch. "Dispatch? Ellison here. I'm at Rainier. Are you sure this guy wanted to be picked up outside the Anthropology Building, Danny?" 

"Affirmative, Ellison." 

"Well, I've been here five minutes already and there's no sign of him. You want me to go looking?" 

"Roger that. You know how these academic types are. Lost inside their own heads half the time. Just go in and ask if anyone's seen him. He's probably waiting at the wrong door or something." 

"Right, dispatch. Ellison out." 

Jim locked up the car and headed into the building. He stopped inside the first office door he found and spoke to the well dressed woman sitting at the big oak desk. "Reliable Taxi, ma'am, for Doctor Sandburg? Any idea where he's waiting? I was supposed to pick him up five minutes ago." 

The woman looked up finally from the papers she had been studying and immediately her eyes widened in surprise. Jim waited impatiently as she gave him the once over and then pulled the glasses away from her eyes and gave him the once over again. 

"Taxi?" she asked, smiling at Jim in a too friendly manner. "You don't look like any taxi driver I've ever seen before. Where's the facial hair and the beer belly?" 

Jim's answering smile slipped a notch and he gritted his teeth. "Pascoe's Reliable Taxi, ma'am. I'm looking for Doctor Blair Sandburg? He called for a taxi but there's no sign of him outside." 

"He stopped by a few minutes ago. Just got back from a couple of years in South America. Probably hasn't been home yet, if I know Blair. Have you tried his office?" 

"And that would be where?" Jim held onto his temper admirably. 

"Right at the end of the corridor. You can't miss it. Lovely glass etching on the door." 

"Thank you," Jim turned away before she could figure out some way to detain him. He was aware of her following him as far as her doorway and watching as he strode purposefully down the long hallway. As he got closer to the last door he had to admit the wildlife etching on the glass of the office door was wonderful, but he was distracted from its beauty by the sound of voices coming from the other side of it. 

"Why didn't you call me when you got in?" a deep baritone boomed out clearly from behind the door which had been left partially open. "You know I wanted to pick you up at the airport." 

"The flight had been delayed twice already, Gordon," answered a slightly higher masculine voice with a musical lilt to it despite its defensiveness. "I didn't know when I'd get in for sure. It just seemed more sensible to grab a taxi and stop off here to get a few things out of the way. I wanted to make sure that statuette got put under lock and key ASAP. There's no way I want the responsibility of housing that thing at my place over the weekend. It's caused me more trouble than it's worth already. You wouldn't believe the problems I had bringing it into the country." 

"My poor baby," the deep voice crooned suggestively in response. 

Jim decided he'd heard enough. He stepped up and knocked briefly but sharply on the partially opened door. The force of the knock made it swing completely open, giving him an excellent view of the two men locked together inside the office. They turned towards him in surprise, the big one with his arms still around the smaller, the smaller with both his arms wedged between their chests. As their jaws dropped open he took a good long look at the pair of them. 

One of the men was your quintessential tall, dark and handsome caucasian, right down to the luxuriously thick hair and romantic moustache. He had ebony eyes to match his midnight black hair and wore the academic de rigeur herringbone tweed jacket, well-tailored shirt open at the neck and charcoal slacks with a knife-edge crease. 

His companion was a good head shorter with shoulder length brown curls that caught the sun from the window behind him, shining auburn at the tips. The deep blue of his wide open eyes matched his deep blue v-neck pullover exactly, shade for shade. There was a tantalizing glimpse of dark curling chest hair at the neckline and the well-worn denim jeans hugged slim legs and stopped just short of a pair of dusty, well-scuffed leather laced-up boots. The hip-length safari-type jacket made his shoulders seem much broader than you would have guessed from his height. 

Before either man could recover, Jim barked, "Excuse me. Either of you Doctor Sandburg? Taxi's waiting, sir." He was abrupt but polite. To hell with Danny's kid gloves. Time was money and they could fool around on somebody else's. 

The tall man immediately turned back to the smaller one who was trying to pull himself away from him. "Taxi? Why on earth would you order a taxi, Blair?" 

The shorter man seemed embarrassed to be caught in the other man's arms and hastily extricated himself under the Jim's cool stare. "I needed someone to get me and all this junk home, Gordon. I'd think that was obvious," he muttered irritatedly. 

"But I'm here!" the taller man pointed out, spreading his arms generously. "I'll take you anywhere you want. Just say the word and we can leave any time. My car's in the lot. I'm at your service," he grinned. 

"Excuse me," Jim broke in impatiently. "Can I just interrupt this tender moment to find out whether someone needs a taxi here?" 

"I'm Dr. Sandburg and I called for the taxi," the shorter of the two announced. 

"But he doesn't need a taxi because I'll be driving him home," interrupted the taller man in his turn. 

Jim stared at the curly haired professor with a raised eyebrow. Sandburg was biting his lip and glaring at the taller man, who was grinning fatuously at what he sensed was the younger man's imminent capitulation. "It's your call, Chief," Jim prompted the younger man. "But my time is money, so if you could decide _now_?" 

"I'm sorry . . ." the long haired anthropologist started. 

Jim broke back in. "I'd appreciate it if you'd just call dispatch and let them know you're cancelling the call. That way I don't get any grief." 

"Sure," Sandburg nodded hastily. "No problem, man." He turned to his desk. 

"Thanks, Chief," Jim sketched a wave to the young man's unseeing back and turned to head back out of the building. The whole encounter hadn't done a lot for his opinion of academics, but he admitted to himself in a small corner of his mind that took note of such things and then usually forgot them, that the kid had been undeniably attractive. No wonder his companion had been anxious to get rid of Jim. 

* * *

Jim Ellison didn't normally go to gay bars but he'd been to this particular one before and the bartender recognized him as soon as he settled on the end stool. Without a word he set a brew in front of the big man and Jim felt himself relax. He wasn't into the gay scene but that curtailed encounter the day before with the handsome young professor from Rainier had put him in the mood to take in the sights of the club's busy dance floor on a Friday night. He wanted to watch slim male hips bumping and grinding and gyrating to the music, even if the volume of it did half deafen him to the point where he and the barkeep had to communicate completely by hand signal. He hope to God he didn't end up with one of those nagging headaches that tended to lay him up for a week with pain and nausea that wouldn't quit. He hadn't had one for months and he certainly didn't want tonight to finish that way. 

Tonight he wanted to watch good looking masculine faces glisten with sweat worked up moving to the insistent beat. He wanted to see denim stretched tight across hard buttocks and bulges shifted with surreptitious and not-so-surreptitious fingers. He wanted to see chest hair displayed in open necked shirts and bulging pecs outlined under tight tees. That young man had started up a craving in the pit of Jim's stomach that he usually found easy to ignore. But not tonight. Tonight he intended to get high on conspicuous displays of testosterone and the strong smell of male sweat and if he was lucky, he was gonna go home with some virile hot muscle and have the memory of that slim young beauty fucked right outta his head. 

And then he saw him. Jim grit his teeth and stared in disbelief. Doctor Blair Fucking Sandburg was out on the dance floor of this very club, right now, dancing with some tall blond guy who looked to be about the same age. They weren't touching, but from the way they moved around each other it was obvious they were there together. 

What happened to tall, dark and handsome, Jim wondered. The two young men were feeding off each other's attention, preening for each other under one particular bright red spotlight that made the brown curls glow like they were a source of heat themselves. Sandburg's thighs moved sleekly under some soft material that clung and then gave in to the stretch of the muscle. Jim couldn't tear his eyes away. The bulge at the crotch swelled softly. The silk shirt didn't quite reach it, but flowed easily from the shoulders, clinging, then falling, just like the pants. Jim could feel his skin reacting all over his body as he absorbed the heady sight. Jesus! He'd never felt an attraction to another man sweep him up so quickly and so completely. If tall, dark and possessive wasn't here, did that mean the young man was unattached? What about blondie? He had to find out. 

Jim had no illusions about himself. He was no dancer. He'd never even ventured out onto the dance floor in one of these places. He'd never felt the need to before, letting the night's quarry always come to him. But he was damned if he was going to leave this one to chance. He finished his beer for courage and then turned resolutely towards the crowd of dancers on the floor. 

The two young men were dancing back to back as Jim approached the seething throng, so it was no coincidence that as Jim stopped on the edge of it, Sandburg's gaze should meet his as it ranged through the mass of moving bodies. Jim's was the only still figure in sight. He squared his shoulders, stood tall and met the deep blue eyes head-on, then watched them range down his denim-clad body to his well worn western-style boots and then back up again to where he had combed the natural wave of his light brown hair to cover the receding edge of his 40 year old hairline. 

For one long depressing moment Jim felt the weight of every one of those 40 long years and wondered just what a young guy like Sandburg, with everything going for him -- prestigious job, steady income, good looks, good health and sex appeal out the wazoo . . . Just what would a young guy like that see in a beat up old ex-Army ex-cop like himself? And then their eyes met and Sandburg smiled: questioning, amused, but best of all as far as Jim was concerned, encouraging. It was a smile of good humoured invitation and Jim took him up on it like a shot. 

He moved into the sea of bodies on a bee-line for the two young men, watching as Sandburg's movements seemed to become ever more highly suggestive the closer he got to him. He'd swear the kid was flirting with him even as he and his partner practically rubbed asses together to the heavy beat of the music. The last few chords of the number crashed to a close and Sandburg came to rest in a relaxed stance, hands on hips as Jim stopped in front of him. When a pair of long fingered hands settled on the silk-clad shoulders, Jim raised his eyes to meet those of Sandburg's blond dancing partner, who didn't look too pleased at his arrival. 

Jim ignored the pointedly hostile stare and brought his gaze back to the deep blue eyes of the young anthropologist in front of him. "Can I have the next one?" he drawled with an inviting smile of his own. 

Despite the hands that had tightened their grip on him, Blair accepted. "Sure. That'd be great." He turned his face to his partner and spoke over his shoulder. "That was fun, Bobby. Thanks." 

"See you later?" The blond's eyebrows rose as he looked from Sandburg to Jim and back, obviously questioning his choice. 

"Later," Blair smiled, shrugged and then turned to Jim. 

Jim was just peripherally aware of the blond leaving the dance floor and then his whole attention was focused on the beautiful young man in front of him as the music blasted out again. He winced visibly and then, catching Sandburg's questioning look, he just shrugged and laughed self-consciously. His new partner started to move slowly to the music and Jim just watched, mesmerized by the sway of the hips, the tension and relaxation of muscle groups all over his body. His roving gaze finally met the sultry deep blue stare and was caught. He saw the amused grin turn into bemused puzzlement. 

"I thought you wanted to dance . . ." Sandburg began loudly, fighting the volume of the music, raising a questioning eyebrow as his movements came to a standstill. 

"Jim," the older man supplied as he leaned forward fractionally. 

"Jim," the younger man repeated. "I'm Blair." 

"I know," Jim nodded. He moved in closer. "Dr. Blair Sandburg, Anthropologist, Hargrove Hall, Rainier University. Just back from two years in South America." 

"Right," Blair smiled. He moved even closer, entering Jim's personal space. "Are we going to dance?" 

"I don't," Jim blurted out baldly, and he thought, too loudly, and then felt like ten kinds of fool. 

"Don't what?" Blair frowned. 

"Dance," Jim admitted, frowning at the moving crowd that was closing in on them in a tighter and tighter circle as they stood completely still surrounded by its seething waves of motion. 

But Blair just grinned at him and Jim could have sworn, looking into those intense blue eyes that the man was reading his mind. "Bull," he pronounced loudly and the grin became mischievous. He leaned in even closer to be heard and Jim was surrounded for a heady moment by the mixed scents of pure concentrated masculinity. "The way you moved crossing the dance floor?" Blair raised an eyebrow. "You're a natural, man." And he held his hands up between them for Jim to take so that he could lead him in the desired movements. 

Jim automatically reached up, not even thinking, just responding to something that urged him to meet this man fifty-fifty all the way. Their hands met between them for a moment, palm to palm and then like it was something they'd done a hundred times before, their fingers meshed, hands clasped and Blair pulled Jim towards him and started to sway, moving his weight from hip to hip. Jim followed, unconsciously mirroring the movements until they were brushing against each other, back and forth, side to side, close and apart and then close again, moving slowly together with the heavy beat of the music. 

To Jim it was just like making love only they were in the middle of a crowd of sweaty men and they were still standing and they had all their clothes on. His cock had risen hard and aching, but he was loving every teasing minute of it. Blair's grasp on his hands pulled him in and Jim felt a slim muscled thigh brush up the inside of his. Then Blair was moving back, loosening their handclasp, stepping back to the beat of the music. 

The next surge of rhythm brought them back together again and this time he pulled Jim's chest in at an angle so that their bellies bumped ever so slightly and tantalizingly against each other. Then he was moving away on the backbeat. Their eyes never left each other as they danced, bodies brushing. The next time Blair moved in he turned his head abruptly, breaking that searing eye contact. Instead, his hair swung out with the movement and brushed across Jim's cheek. Jim breathed in deeply and filled his lungs with the hot scent of skin, sweat, shampoo and a wave of male muskiness that made his legs lose all their strength for a fraction of a second. 

In fact, Jim's movements ground to a halt in reaction and when Blair moved back in on the beat they came up against each other chest to chest, thigh to thigh, groin to groin. Jim freed his fingers and dropped Blair's hands in an instant as the younger man froze in shock at the contact. He wrapped his arms around Blair and pulled him in even closer, sliding one long hard thigh between the other man's. 

Jim started swaying again with the beat of the pounding music, not wanting to bring too much attention to themselves as they moved more intimately against each other. He expected an objection, or some kind of comment or move from Blair, but to Jim's amazement, Blair just melted against him, brought his hands up to rest on Jim's broad shoulders, and let Jim move them both in unison, held close in that intimate embrace. 

He listened raptly as a soft moan, almost hidden by the music, rose to his ears as the definite heat and firmness of an erection beneath those soft clinging pants brushed against his taut leg muscles. Jim sighed as the evidence of Blair's repsonse to him set off ricocheting pulses of pleasure all over his own body: from his cock to his nipples, his lips to his ass, his fingertips to his balls, all exquisitely sensitized and all focused on the man pressed against him. 

He didn't know how long it went on for. Whether the music continued to pound or ceased altogether for minutes at a time, he couldn't have said. One thing he knew was that he never let go of the sweet body held close to his. It continued to taunt him and soothe him in a dizzying mix of comfort and arousal that he had never in his life experienced before. And he had no intention of doing anything that might make it stop. 

Jim finally registered the fact that the kneading of his shoulder muscles had eased at the same time that a pair of warm callused palms slid up the sides of his neck and around the back of his head. Strong fingers moved into the hair at his nape and Jim just let himself soak in the sensation of his skull being cupped in those capable hands. Then his head was being urged downward and he found his face nuzzled into fragrant curls behind a multi-ringed ear. Before he could decide what to do about his new position he felt a breath of warm moistness against his own ear and a voice murmuring his name. 

"Jim . . ." 

"Mmmm . . ." was the best Jim could do as he nosed the dangling earrings. 

"Let's go." 

Jim barely registered that words were being spoken to him. He was concentrating on the feel of the warm air entering his ear canal and the tantalizing touches of the brown curls on his face as he nuzzled in closer to the young man's neck. "Ummm . . ." His response revealed as much, so it was a shock to him when the warm breath, warm skin and warm body were slowly but inexorably withdrawn and Jim found himself staring into dark blue eyes, his only contact a pair of steady hands holding his. "What?" He shook his head to try and clear it. What had he missed? 

Thankfully the dark blue eyes were sparkling with amusement, not anger, and as Jim's gaze dropped, the generous lips he was longing to taste quirked into an amused grin. "Your place or mine?" they said just before a tantalizing glimpse of tongue reached out and licked them, leaving them shiny and wet. 

Distracted as he was, Jim just stared, dragging himself back to awareness slowly and finally taking in the sense of the words. "Uh, well . . ." He watched as Blair's amused grin turned into an even more amused chuckle and he shook himself, visibly trying to bring his mind and his senses back under control. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Your choice, Chief." 

Blair's expression turned from amusement to heat again at the appellation. He leaned in close. "Wait for me at the bar. I've gotta find Bobby and tell him I'm leaving. Okay?" Jim just nodded and watched Blair wade into the crowd, headed towards the d.j.'s booth before turning and heading towards the bar himself. He settled on the first vacant stool he came to and waved off the barkeep despite the man's raised eyebrows. 

He didn't have time to do more than slowly run his hands over his face once and then prop himself on his elbows on the bar before a warm hand landed in the middle of his back and he turned to find Blair beside him. "That was quick," Jim observed in surprise. "Wasn't he upset about you leaving?" 

"Nah," Blair pulled Jim up from his stool and towards the door by a firm grasp around one muscular bicep. "It wasn't a date or anything," he leaned in to Jim's side to make sure he was heard easily. Jim automatically reached up his free hand to take Blair's from his arm and clasp it tight. His freed arm he snaked around Blair's waist, not slowing a step as they headed out of the bar. "We were both at loose ends tonight and just decided to buddy up," Blair continued as they stepped out into the cool shock of night. Both of them stopped to adjust for a moment to the change from the close humid confines of the building they'd just left. 

"What about tall, dark and handsome? Why isn't he here with you tonight?" 

"Who?" Blair frowned at him in bewilderment. 

"Your replacement taxi driver yesterday? What was his name? Gordon?" Jim reminded him. 

Blair snorted once derisively. "Gordon is just an ex who refuses to stay an ex. Forget about him." 

"Good." Jim nodded. He watched Blair's smile blossom again. 

"You planning to try some possessive shit on me too, man?" Sandburg challenged him. 

"Only as much as you'll let me, Chief," Jim grinned in acknowledgement of the warning. 

"Jim." Blair shook his head. "We've only just met. How about we find out whether we like each other first. Okay?" 

"I thought that's where we were headed. Didn't you say 'your place or mine'?" 

"That's just sex, man," Blair turned away from Jim's eyes and looked out into the darkness of the empty street. "It doesn't have to mean anything." 

"Don't you want it to?" Jim reached out and brought Blair's face back around until their eyes met again. "Isn't that where we're going?" When Blair just gazed back but didn't answer, Jim's voice hardened. "What? You think I'm just interested in a quick fuck?" He dropped his hand and his arm from around the young man and ground out, "Is that all you want from me, Blair? You think 'cause I drive taxi for a living and hang out in gay bars that I'm just a cheap fuck? Is that why you're in such a hurry to get us out of there? What did you tell your friend? That you couldn't believe your luck at having found such an easy lay?" He turned away in anger, but then Blair was yanking him back around again, strong hands gripped around both Jim's biceps this time. 

"I wanted to get us the hell out of there because despite the physical evidence, I do not enjoy getting off on a public dance floor for the amusement of the general public!" Blair growled in fury. Jim glanced down involuntarily to see that hard cock still bulging prominently at the front of the soft trousers. "It seemed only fair and decent," the hot blue stare lowered to Jim's own crotch, "to take this party somewhere more private." 

"I realize that," Jim huffed, but Blair bulldozed over him as if he hadn't spoken. 

"Just because my body responds enthusiastically to yours, it doesn't mean I'm some sort of slut!" he growled. 

"I didn't . . ." Jim tried to get a word in. 

"And it doesn't mean that I think you are either!" Blair continued heatedly. 

Jim took a deep breath. "I'm sorry . . ." 

"Maybe this is a big mistake," Blair dropped his hands from their fierce grip on Jim's arms and turned away. 

"Blair . . ." It was Jim's turn to take hold of Blair's arm. He couldn't let him walk away whether this was going to be just a one night stand or not. "I'm sorry. I'm a jerk, okay? It's been a long time since I was out with anybody, let alone a guy. I'm a little rusty at the social niceties here. Just let me apologize, please? Can we start over?" When the blue eyes turned back to regard him intently, he repeated, "Please?" 

They stared at each other for long minutes, Jim's look worried, Blair's considering. "I liked what we had going for us in there, Jim." 

"God, yeah," Jim agreed on a released breath. His relief grew as Blair's grin resurfaced. 

"You got wheels around here somewhere?" Blair asked. 

"My truck's right down there under the streetlight," Jim pointed. 

Blair stepped up close to Jim and the taller man's arm automatically went around him again. "Let's go," Blair urged. 

* * *

Jim watched the first hint of morning sun lighten the sky and the room he lay in, and gild the bare skin of the man beside him, the man sleeping soundly as a child on one of Jim's comfortable pillows. One of his hands had slid beneath the pillow, cupping it under the beard-shadowed cheek. The other hand lay splayed flat, relaxed on the sheet between them. Jim restrained himself from leaning down and laying his lips on the back of it, restrained himself from leaning even further and laying his lips on that bristled cheek. Time enough for that when he'd gazed his fill of the beauty and the serenity of the sleeping man beside him. Time enough once he'd figured out what to say to him to keep him there. 

Last night had been a night Jim would remember all the rest of his days; a life-changing night, a night that gave Jim a glimpse of things hidden inside himself that he had never guessed at. He had discovered a hidden depth of passion inside himself that had left him crying wantonly for release. He, Jim Ellison, for the first time in his life, had begged for a man to take him to a place he'd never been before, but had seen his first glimpse of in Blair Sandburg's arms and mouth, and then again while being pierced by the man's virile body. 

Jim felt lost; lost in the wonder of it. Where had all that feeling come from? And how did this one sensitive and passionate young man find the secret to its release within him? How had he known it was there waiting inside Jim for the right person to find? Worrying thoughts, and yet that was not what was worrying Jim this morning. 

He should be outraged at his loss of control and yet it seemed the least of his problems. He'd been married for a couple of years, a lifetime ago it seemed. Control had been a very big issue for him back then. He had controlled everything about that relationship and the more Carolyn had fought for her rightful share of that control, the more he had fought back until they arrived at the point where instead of emotional partners they had become emotional enemies. She'd given up on him and Jim had given up on the relationship, figuring he just wasn't meant for making someone else happy. He'd always been a loner. It was best that he stay that way. No one else since then had gotten anything more out of him than sex and a few laughs. Until now. 

That was the frightening part. There was the worry. He stared at the young man sprawled flat on his stomach in his bed. Jim wanted to give this man things he hadn't known he had to give. He wanted to offer him whatever his hungry young heart desired. Anything. Everything. God, even his thoughts made him sound like a lovesick fool. Heaven knows what was going to come out of his mouth once he opened it to speak. 

Jim wanted to keep Blair at his side. He wanted to offer him love and fidelity and support and security and passion and servitude and whatever damn thing the kid wanted or needed or thought he wanted or needed. It was insane! He wanted this guy to fall as deeply in love with him as he feared he was falling himself. And how crazy was that? Less than 24 hours and he was already talking about love, for Christ's sake! 

Love? What did he know about love? Did Blair know what the hell it was he wanted from him? Had he ever been in love before? Jim had thought what he'd had with Carolyn had been love, at least at the beginning. But that paltry feeling had nothing in common with this madness. It felt like his life was out of his control. It felt like any happiness he could ever imagine for himself now depended on someone else, someone he barely knew. Even to himself it made no sense. Why should this scholar, this world traveller, this guy with letters after his name and other men -- and women too for all Jim knew -- vying for his attentions; why should he want anything from Jim Ellison? God. He didn't even know Jim and his past history full of failures of every description. Hell, if he were Blair, he certainly wouldn't want to get mixed up with him. And that realization alone was scaring the bejesus out of him. 

So he didn't wake Blair. He wanted him to sleep forever, ensconced in Jim's big loft bed, Jim's for just this infinite moment in time, belonging to Jim more in that moment than Jim had ever had anything so precious belong to him in a long long time. 

End 


End file.
